Glutton for Punishment
by AssassinaAquila
Summary: Not all love stories start out like Romeo and Juliet. Sometimes, it all starts with a little surrender. Rated M for Massive Smut, Contains lots-o-lemons and Lilithmon-bashing. Somewhat Dark. Read at your own risk.
1. 1 Prisoner Arc I: The Reward part 1

_Prisoner Arc I: The Reward part 1_

Beelzemon placed his chin on his fist in a bored fashion, trying hard not to let his scowl be overly noticeable. Meetings like this with his fellow Demon Lords only made the Glutton Lord irritated over lost time and the utter uselessness of it all, as it was through the whim of Lucemon that they were gathered together at all. Despite what all the other pleasant Digifolk thought (Royal Knights not-withstanding) the Demon Lords did not, could not, and would not occupy the same space willingly or peaceably.

At most, these meetings that Lucemon called up every blue moon were no more than over-glorified temper tantrums with each participant putting on airs. Beelzemon suspected that the Pride Lord got some sick amusement out of the verbal spatting, which only served to get him only more pissed off every time he thought so.

His red eyes glanced around the spacious cavern, the three eyes taking in the other lords that sat on their personalized stone thrones. Within the circular formation, each lord could communicate with the other comfortably even if they were on complete opposites of each other. The space in between each lord was capacious enough that they had to move several paces before they could be within striking distance, barring long-distance attacks (which, when he thought of it, was quite impressive considering Leviamon's size).

However (read: disappointingly), none of the other lords seem to be irritable enough to come close to trading blows as of yet (which was a shame, he thought, as the fight between Daemon and Belphemon was the only highlighting event in the previous meeting). As of the moment, Daemon was in a heated debate with Barbamon, only to be tag-teamed when Leviamon joined in on the Greed Lord's side; the topic of which Beelzemon didn't care to follow and find out. Lililthmon, living up to her reputation as the Lust Lord, was teasing one of her devimon servants by rubbing her hands sensually over its torso (Beelzemon was disgusted to see how much the skeletal champion-level _enjoyed_ the digi-geisha's ministrations). Belphemon had fallen asleep some time ago, and if he felt honest, Beelzemon felt like following the Sloth Lord's lead.

Then there was the head honcho himself—Lucemon, Demon Lord of Pride. Anger boiled his blood and heated his temper every time he glanced at the half-devil digimon, trying to look so suave while sitting on that stone seat like his ass wasn't getting sore too. Even with his chin cupped in his hands, the Pride Lord looked every bit as his title expressed-which only served to make him even more pissed off.

(Though Beelzemon owned the title of the Lord of Gluttony, he couldn't help but think sometimes that he should've been the one of Wrath with how much the Pride Lord pissed him off with just a mere glance.)

The Great Demon Lord himself seemed to also have the ability to read minds, as he briefly opened his eyes and smirked over in the Glutton Lord's direction. Probably knew that with every moment passed only made his fuse that much shorter, but the angel-devil didn't seem to find that much of a threat as his tone was light and airy as he spoke, "I seemed to have remembered why I called this meeting."

Voices cut off, hands stilled, and all eyes directed themselves at the so-called Demon Leader. Lucemon's choosy memory was infamous and infuriating to the other Demon Lords, seeming to be as fickle as the Pride Lord's arrogant demeanor. Though, as a tic went off in his cheek, Beelzemon suspected that this "faulty" memory was nothing more than a ruse for the Pride Lord's sick amusement.

And yet, none of the other demon lords dared to say anything against the self-proclaimed leader. Lucemon was leader by force, not choice, and each one of the demon lords knew that they couldn't compete against his power.

Beelzemon tightly reigned in his annoyance and feigned nonchalance. There was no use in picking a fight at this time, and all he could do is sit and wait out whatever it is that Lucemon subjected all of them to.

"Due to the recent silence on our enemies end," the Pride Lord addressed, "I felt that this would be the best time to get things done before we're all busy with vanquishing the Royal Knights and all those who stand in our way." At this, he gave a short, almost noble sounding laugh that forced most of the others to laugh in kind. "First and foremost, I have found that I have been far too _lenient_ towards certain individuals of this court." Here, his eyes sharply glanced over at the Lord of Lust, who cowered slightly in her throne as she hastily dismissed the still dazed devimon from her seat.

"When was the last time that you managed to defeat an opponent, _Lilithmon_?"

The geisha blanched and sputtered from her throne, but didn't get a chance to answer.

"Exactly," Lucemon continued, "and yet you have a multitude of servants at your beck and call while Beelzemon, the _second strongest_—" Beelzemon felt his teeth clench painfully at the purposely emphasized jab "—has yet to claim one for himself."

Even as he glared at the leader, Beelzemon wondered where the other lord was going with this. He had proven his strength against the others long ago, proving that his smaller, leaner form could overpower even the might of Leviamon. So, even though he was the _second strongest_ of the Seven Great Demon Lords—which made him second-in-command if one cared to think about it—there was no doubt in any of the lords' minds that he was certainly the fastest of them all.

With the tight leather ensemble and metal accents—such as his plated gauntlets and the three curved spikes on the boots that he sported—his form was built for optimal velocity. Being the shortest of the Demon Lords, Beelzemon had to rely on his superior speed made possible by his aerodynamic body and his metal-plated tail that boosted his balance and made for the perfect weapon against others when his beloved guns weren't effective.

Regardless, Lucemon's behavior set the Glutton Lord's teeth on edge, if only because it meant he was included in the demon leader's plan.

The Pride Lord gave a sudden and almost uncharacteristic clap of delight, as if he was about to reveal the greatest idea conceived since diginoir. "I decided to send a small patrol of demidevimon to look for the perfect reward for you, Beelzemon. After all this time of dedicated service and…unquestionable loyalty to me, it's about high time that I reward you for your efforts against the resistance."

Beelzemon cautiously watched Lucemon's hand as it waved in that graceful, lazy manner that belied nothing of the strength that the mega actually had. The idea of a "reward" coming from this usually volatile Pride Lord could mean anything from free reign on the next raid to a _gentle_ reminder that left the sorry sod close to being reduced to data. So it was within good reason that the biker digimon tensed at the sight of the group of devimon and demidevimon.

That is, until he saw the struggling figure being lead by them. _No fucking way…_ Beelzemon's red eyes grew wide beneath his helmet, frozen as the virus rookies and champions threw her on the ground in the midst of all the lords. _Is Lucemon fucking mental…?!_

The lord in question gazed at him with that infuriating smirk. "Your reward, Beelzemon."

Pale, vulnerable skin left to the open by the gratuitous design of the dress she was clothed in, a heavy contrast to the inky black hair that flowed down her back. A slit that ended high on her waist barred the entire length of her right leg along with the curve of her hip, and the single strap over her left shoulder left her other side barred to the hungry gazes of the more vulgar Demon Lords. With the thick blindfold and gag covering most of her features from their sight and the bindings around her wrist and ankles, she appeared to them as a helpless sacrifice.

In spite of this, Beelzemon felt his lips curl to a snarl. So typical of Lucemon to present her in such a way, since his taste for flair and his own prideful ambitions made for less sensible course of actions. The human reeked with the Pride Lord's signature, no doubt from the leader making a personal appearance to her prior to the meeting. The thought of that arrogant mega touching the human then passing her off onto _him_—his jaw popped under the fierce pressure he was giving it.

He knew an insult when he saw one, and the Glutton Lord knew that this _reward_ of his was nothing more then the result of the leader's leftovers.

A scoff from Belphemon cut through Beelzemon's rage, letting the biker regain his composure. "Why Beelzemon, do you not like your gift? You haven't moved to take her nor speak to claim her," the Sloth Lord noted.

"Perhaps he needs to see if she has beauty!" Lilithmon twittered, amused. She beckoned to a nearby devimon, "Take off the blindfold and stand the human up. Let us see this most gracious prize."

Beelzemon stared at the champion-level virus as it closed in on the human. It went against his very core to feel even the slightest of sympathy for others—humans especially. This one even more so for the stench of Lucemon's signature covering her.

Yet he watched how the devimon stalked to her before taking the human's upper arms—_delicate, frai, compared to the large, skeletal hands_—and pulling her to a standing position. The Glutton Lord heard the muffled whimper through the gag, saw how she recoiled from the devimon's harsh handling and the flinches against the hand clawing at the knot in her hair. The sensation of something being pulled taut in his chest surprised him, but it was quickly forgotten by the heavy _rage_ that nearly sent him out of his throne.

He didn't care about the reward—he didn't want something handed down to him by _Lucemon_ of all digimon. The thoughts cut through his rage in shocking clarity, but there wasn't an explanation as to _why—_

The devimon finally managed to rip the blindfold off of the human. Beelzemon observed, even through the red haze that clouded his thoughts, how she froze as she regained sight then quickly struggle against her handler in panic. The whimpers and mumbling pleads through her gag was found humorous to the others as known by their low laughter, but the Glutton Lord found no amusement out of the fright from such a weak and pathetic creature.

In fact, it made him despise his company just a bit more.

Fed up with her resistance, the devimon gripped her hair by the roots and yanking her head back, resulting in a short shriek of pain from the human. The stone arms of his throne splintered under the pressure his clawed gauntlets, but the others paid him no attention, too enthralled with the human to notice—

Their eyes met, and Beelzemon felt his boiling rage cool slightly.

There was a kind of beauty to her face, he mused offhandedly. Eyes nearly as dark as her hair and wet with frightened tears, completing the victim look with her brows furrowing in helpless panic. Humans were notoriously strange looking even by the Lord's standards with their meager coverings and weak flesh that damaged far too easily. Even now the Glutton Lord could see the welts and scratches from the claws of her handlers and redness around the gag that must have been tied far too tight. Beelzemon held a long-lasting belief that humans held no purpose to digimon—as slaves, servants, or so-called _companions_. . .

Yet—there was a certain foreboding tense with that word that felt like trouble. Yet Beelzemon, with a straight face that held no hint of his inner turmoil of fury and other mystery emotions that he could not name, watched the human try to cringe away from the malicious stares of the Demon Lords while trembling in the devimon's hold.

And felt that pulling twinge in his chest once again.

Dark eyes jumped from demon to demon in increasing terror. Each glance was met with a malevolent glare or a foreboding smirk that promised no good. A yank of her hair harshly reminded her of the thing that held her, a vicious rebuke to quit trying to escape its hold.

Dread weighed heavily in the pits of her gut, along with the fear of not knowing what was happening. A reward? Her? What kind of reward was she?

A heavier question that haunted her, as she looked at each one of the demons that looked more vicious as she watched them, is to which one of these horrible demons was Beelzemon?

"Well?" The human snapped her attention to the demon who spoke, one that had an appearance of a monstrous, bipedal rottweiler with the horns of a ram and six purple wings. It looked tired, like it just woke up, but had the faintest sense of curiosity as it cocked its head for an answer.

"Perhaps he doesn't want the human!" roared a fearsome demon with maroon fur and purple skin and jutting teeth and _oh god, was she going to die?_

"How ungrateful," another huffed, this one with the visage of an old man in a golden mask and rich robes. She flinched when it set its red eyes on her, the wicked greed in them making her pale in alarm. "If he will not claim it, then I will have the, ahem, _honor_ of taking such a gift."

The sudden boom of raucous arguing and loud clamoring between the demons made her flinch violently against the thing that held her prostate. It wrenched her back in place, and it was then that she noticed in horror another development in her terrifying situation.

_The dress is too big!_

All the activity around her had caused the neckline to drop past conservative to nearly flashing everyone. Her bound hands pressed uselessly against her breast, and shame made her flush all the way down to her nearly exposed chest.

_Stupid!_ She cried pitifully in her head. _Worrying about modesty when you could die at any moment! How stupid!_

Her wrists were bound too tightly and left all but her thumbs inept of movement, but trying to pinch the fabric back to a more modest level was proving ineffective as well. In fact, it merely made her handler all the more curious.

"Well," the thing hissed lowly in her ear, "what do we have here?"

A muffled cry of dismay left her when its stronger, massive hands snatched her arms away. Revulsion welled up in her throat when a pleased growl sounded from it when the thin fabric of the dress strained against her breasts, peaking from the cold air and terror that surrounded her, and its sickly breath fell hotly against her skin.

"I hope my mistress takes you," it panted, watching eagerly as the barest edge of a dusky-pink areola was revealed. "I can't wait until she makes you _scream_."

The human shook her head franticly, desperate to dislodge the lusty demon keeping a hold of her. She felt sick under its gaze, and pain radiated from her arms and scalp from its harsh hold. A long tongue slithered from its maw and—_dear god, she rather have her hair ripped out then suffer this!_

She didn't remember closing her eyes. Neither did she notice the abrupt silence ringing through the chamber.

What she did notice was the stiffness of her handler, and the gun stuffed down his throat when she opened her eyes.


	2. 2 Prisoner Arc I: The Reward part 2

_The Prisoner Arc I: The Reward part 2_

The life of digimon is a harsh, cruel cycle. The strong strived to become stronger and eliminated the weak that were in the way, or else used them in some power-gaining scheme. Very few gained power from their own efforts, as once upon a time the only way for a weak digimon to overcome others was through the partnership of a human.

But over time, digimon evolved from their basic command codes and measly limitations. They adapted the use of "uploading" a fallen foe's data; the stronger the foe, the stronger one became. Experience that should have taken cycles to learn could be done in one battle; attacks that one couldn't naturally obtain could be taken from a defeated enemy in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, this method lead to an unforeseen consequence in the balance of the Digital World.

A near decimation of the digimon population.

More and more digimon were being uploaded by their conquerors than being created, and by the time those who cared figured it out it was far too late. A meager fraction remained from the previous amount for many cycles, and while the world slowly recovered, the survivors of the Great Upload Massacre evolved once again.

The code enabling the basics of their personalities was rewritten, due to the uploading of a digimon resulting in not only the gaining of their experience, but also everything that was their _core_. They became more complicated, more advanced, more. . . volatile.

Humans would call it insanity. A digimon would, perhaps solemnly, call it progression.

All Beelzemon knew was that one moment he was glaring at the others for making such a ruckus over ownership of the human captive (and no, he would not admit to even feeling the slightest twinge of jealous fury for them thinking that they had a right of a claim to what was clearly stated as _his_). The next he was shoving his beloved Berenjena down the idiot devimon's throat. A red fog obscured the memory in between the two points, but he figured that it had something to do with the champion-level he was holding at gunpoint and the fearful, confused human in between.

Silence permeated the air, the type that glued tongues to the roof of the mouth and liquidated the spines of the weak. It held weight and presence, pressing against the chest and causing throats to tighten in fear at the oppressive aura. The remaining Demon Lords were sent against the backs of their thrones with straining muscles and tense jaws, and they waited for the upcoming shit-storm with bated breath. All save, for one.

Lucemon, unaffected by the tense atmosphere, merely opened an eye to watch the curious scene with unconcerned amusement. He had no reason to worry a single blond hair on his head, for the Glutton Lord held no threat to him. Though the leader wondered about the odd behavior, he found no significance to cause any sort of commotion.

So he sat back and enjoyed the show.

-/-\-

She didn't get what was going on. From having the monstrous demons arguing over her ownership to the thing keeping her captive slowly molesting her, her mind went into a state of shock to save her sanity. The human faintly registered the cold, metal hand holding her arm opposite of her handler, a touch that was firm but far from unbearable unlike that of the other.

Sounds warbled in and out like a cacophony under water. The trembling of her captor magnified and gave the sensation of her mind rattling around her skull. Temperature fluctuated between sweltering hot and freezing cold, causing a cold sweat to break across her skin and shortening her breath to panicked pants.

Finally her knees buckled. The only keeping her up was the still painful grip of her hair and the pair of hands holding her arms.

She didn't know how much longer she could last.

-/-\-

Beelzemon's glower scored into the devimon like a dull blade—agonizing and causing far more damage. In response, the subordinate shook like the pathetic waste of space that the Glutton Lord had deemed it.

He noticed the human's strength waning as he continued his fearsome glare. The biker pressed his gun further into the champion's mouth. "This is when," he growled, exposing his fangs, "you let go, filth."

The devil-like digimon slowly complied, though not from reluctance. A paralyzing fear ran through its data like venom, the fear that any sudden move would create a sudden and painful end via the Glutton Lord's famous Heartbreak Shot.

Said Demon Lord found himself disappointed when the devimon was smart enough not to back away as soon as the girl was free, the champion digimon not willing to incite further punishment. Then he was more occupied by a suddenly limp human and only one free hand.

Running more on instinct than logic, Beelzemon quickly pulled the girl up over his head. He took advantage of her bound wrists and used them as leverage to adjust her against his chest, placing them around his neck and an arm below her knees for support. Her head lulled against his shoulder before resting at his neck—the biker would never admit that her warm pants sent delicious shivers down his spine, just like he would never admit that her warmth searing his skin caused him to clutch her closer.

A sneer twitched at the Glutton Lord's lips, and he snapped his glare towards his seated companions while ignoring the digimon still held at gunpoint. His gaze dared the others to say something against his actions, to challenge him for the human.

"I believe that _Lord_ Lucemon has made himself clear," Beelzemon began, staring each of the lords down in a clear taunt. "The human is to be mine, and any who wish to dispute me may speak **_now_**."

Nobody moved apart from glancing at each other, wondering if anyone had the balls to challenge the infuriated mega. None were willing to step up to him, not to the lord that had already proven his strength against them single-handedly—especially not for a mere _human_.

The human stirred slightly at his shoulder, and the biker digimon couldn't help but spare her a glance. Her eyes seemed cloudy and unfocused as they met his, and at that point he made an irrelevant, petty observation that he immediately rebuked himself for after he thought it. He had no want to care that the color of her eyes was a dark, royal shade of blue that he had only seen from the depths of the great sea, and that it was the most beguiling hue he had ever seen. She pulled closer to him, an act of her own violation, and bowled him over with the expression of pure, unadulterated _relief_ gracing her pale face not covered by the gag.

The twinge pulled at his chest again. Beelzemon quickly looked away, not wanting to admit that the girl's irrational trust in him left him feeling awkward, almost flinching at her look. He had no clue how to react to her, and sought the more familiar terrified expression that covered his prisoner's face.

The Glutton Lord tilted his head slightly while glaring down at the trembling devimon at the business end of his gun, feigning a contemplating guise as if he was actually considering sparing its life. Then he noticed the saliva accumulating around his Berenjena's barrel and scowled distastefully. It shook at the look, but Beelzemon merely slid the gun out of the champion digimon's mouth to press against its forehead, unintentionally getting an amusing spectacle of the devil going cross-eyed to keep the gun within eyesight.

"Don't. Move." The words were slowly enunciated, an unspoken threat underlying the snarl that the lord had said them through.

A threat clearly heard, as the devimon dared not move to even nod in understanding.

Half a heartbeat passed, and the mega abruptly turned away in what was conceived as dismissal. His three eyes glowered fiercely from the shadows of his purple helm, issuing another challenge at the other lords that, once again, was left unanswered.

Finally he turned to Lucemon, who had watched the spectacle with a look that could freeze a volcano's heart, and gave the leader a sarcastic half-bow. He didn't deny himself the pleasure of smirking at the distressed flinches of his cohorts when his beloved pistol (_unintentionally_) rounded upon them as he bowed. "By your leave, my leader," he quipped, his contempt for the Pride Lord clear in his sardonic tone.

The half-demonic angel easily dismissed the ire as one would a fly—with a quick flick of a wrist and a delicate, if haughty, glance away. Beelzemon fumed silently at the flippant response but found no desire to for another clash, and sought the closest exit from the meeting chambers.

"Stop right there, you bastard!"

All those present winced at the shrill, piercing voice that cawed from the throat of none other than the resident harpy. Beelzemon closed his eyes and allowed a pained expression to cross his face, since his back was to everyone who mattered and wouldn't notice the falter. _So fucking close…_

Lilithmon pointed a thin, talon-like finger towards him, her passably attractive face screwing into a rather unattractive sneer as she squalled loudly. "Lucemon, this behavior is unacceptable in the neutral grounds of the Congregation! His threatening of my servant cannot remain unpunished." The digimon slut gave the biker a condescending scowl that might have sent a weaker-willed digimon to their knees, confident that her frequency in the leader's bed would grant protection and immunity.

No one was impressed.

Lucemon sighed and placed his head in his chin in a manner that almost seemed pained, giving the Lust Lord a rather apathetic stare. "If you wish for retribution on your servant's behalf, so be it."

The slut beamed smugly and reclined in her throne, as if waiting for a show to begin. Until—

"Do it yourself."

Lilithmon faulted with a pronounced flinch, smugness being quickly replaced with the chill of doom. She chanced a look at the Glutton Lord, meeting the red-eyed glare that he tossed her over his shoulder and the sight of the pistol still cradled in his hand with the feigned sense of ease, and immediately snapped back at the leader with an undignified squawk. "But Lucemon—"

"Enough." Lucemon sat straight in a way that most would call regal, but the look that he tossed the female lord belied his hidden ire. "Beelzemon has done nothing except what he is entitled to as the human's…let's say benefactor, shall we? Master sounds so crude and _shady_." He paused to chuckle, finding amusement in a joke that seemed to have cropped in his mind. "Besides, everyone knows how awfully—" he paused again to send a blatantly mocking smile at the human peeking over the Glutton Lord's shoulder, "_delicate_, humans are. I'm sure everyone present would have given similar reactions if they were given a chance to enjoy such an exotic creature."

The other lords besides Lilithmon and Beelzemon chuckled under their breaths, catching the intended implications in Lucemon's tone towards the girl. Some of them even began to leer at her, licking their lips or otherwise taunting the poor thing in a suggestive manner.

She shrunk under their gaze, curling further into the biker's hold though the wary glance she gave him betrayed a wane of confidence that she held for him. The Demon Lords weren't the only ones who caught the leader's message, and her eyes clearly held questions about his intentions and integrity.

Beelzemon found it amusing that she thought her opinion would even matter in the end.

"And so, Lilithmon," the Pride Lord continued, "if you want your servant to be protected, then you must do so in the manner that Beelzemon has done for his—by your own power." With this, Lucemon sat back, crossing both arms and legs in a way that was both casual and arrogant and said nothing more.

Lilithmon paled and gave the Glutton Lord, who still pinned her with his unwavering stare, an appraising and hesitant glance. Suddenly, she didn't seem so eager to defend her servant any further.

Having come to the same conclusion, Beelzemon dismissed the geisha with a snort and resumed his exit. The human looked up at him nervously, but otherwise remained still and compliant in the Glutton Lord's arm. As an afterthought, she glanced back towards the circle of Demon Lords, back to the center where she was showcased, and noticed that the devil that held her relaxed as the biker walked further away, stepping back slightly in relief.

She blinked. And flinched when a streak of red light flashed across her vision, a heart-stopping _crack_ like thunder sounding mere seconds later.

And witnessed in horror as the torso of the devil incinerated in front of her eyes, its disembodied arms falling to the ground with a sickening _thud-thump_.

"Told him not to move." His voice wasn't cold and callous, like one would have expected. No, the words sounded…_disappointed_, as if he had warned a child not to do something but then caught them doing exactly that. But his smirk betrayed his amusement—his _pleasure_ from the kill, and the gleam in his eyes said that he wouldn't miss the sorry excuse of data. At that moment, the girl caught a glimpse of the true demon hiding under all the rage; a demon that did not burn with fury, but remained frozen in calculated movements and subtle manipulations. A type of demon that showed nothing but hate and rebellion to misdirect the fact that he was, in all actuality, slowly stringing them along into the positions that he wanted them in.

At that moment, the girl had a flash of understanding that she had been fooled. The demon known as Beelzemon hadn't acted as her savior in a moment of compelled impulsiveness or sudden jealousy, but did it because she was human and would naively trust anything that came to her rescue.

And it worked.

Tears fell from her dark, watery eyes and a muffled sob escaped from her gag, but it was far too late to fight now. Darkness encased them, and they were gone.

-/-\-

Lucemon watched as the remains of the devimon decomposed into floating data, disappearing quickly to become one of the lucky few to return to the cycle of digimon rebirth. He listened in a bored manner as the chaos of melding voices erupted from those left in the meeting circle, some shrill and loud with rage directed to the recently departed lord as they felt confident to speak such insults behind his back while others were low in confused murmurs, questioning about the sudden attachment.

But Lucemon knew better—but of course, he knew _all_.

For a moment, the Pride Lord saw a glimpse of Beelzemon's true nature. A smirk crossed his pale lips.

_Perfect…_


	3. 3 Prisoner Arc I: The Rules

_The Prisoner Arc I: The Rules_

In this day and age, survival depended on where one places their alliance.

Legend states that it was during the Great Uploading that the Demon Lords became what they are; massacring all those they came across to become the most powerful of all. Very few of the survivors could recall the great horrors of that period with even the slightest clarity, even fewer baring witness to the Lords rise in power. If what could be said of them as true, all of the Lords were once ordinary Digifolk with schemes of grandeur and lust of battle—rumor has it that it was these same digimon that started the uploading, as well as the ones who finished it. As such, they are as thus feared for their power that went above and beyond their levels.

Those of the younger digimon generations were told that the world became dark at the uprising of the Demon Lords; that everything fell silent and even the mountains and the seas bowed to their power. Only to be also told of the hope that had arisen from the darkness.

The Holy Knights, soldiers of Yggdrasil and the will and hope of all those who felt oppressed under the rule of the Demon Lords. Ordinary digimon, not unlike how the Lords first started out, that were chosen instead to hold the power of the divine beasts to cast back the shadow of the Dark Ones.

There were no clear-cut edges of territory or shades of allegiance one could place on a map. The closer one got to the capital of Yggdrasil, the more vocal the populace became in support of the Holy Knights and their cause. However, the farther one got from the Holy Ones' influence and protection, the less likely one would find themselves in good company.

TwilaTown was a resting stop far beyond the outskirts of the capital. A refuge for the weary, a sanctuary for the hunted, and a silent chasm of secrets.

Lilamon worked these hot springs for many a cycle, providing generous services for many a traveler and affording herself a well-received reputation. In her great experience and wisdom, she knew with a glance when it was appropriate for her to be a gracious host, or to shut up and feign ignorance.

And when one of the feared Demon Lords shows up with a bound, whimpering human in arm, she knew which one she needed to be.

A private bath key was laid on the counter without any words exchanged, and Lilamon turned in the other direction and pretended not to see the human's pleading eyes. She ignored the clink of metal from behind as well as the fading footsteps, and after a moment returned to her previous position with a gentle, hollow smile.

She had long stopped hating herself for her silence. It had been the only thing that has kept her alive.

-/-\-

The human had yet to struggle in his arms, though her pitiful mewling was quickly becoming a nuisance to his ears.

Beelzemon frequented these baths, and knew which room he was given as soon as the flower woman placed the key down. It was a discrete area, within the lower floors that are reserved for only the esteemed clients and ensured absolute privacy. The entering room was laden with smooth stone wall and tiled floors of dull, muted colors; cubicles took up a portion of the wall to his right, a row of hooks next to that. To his left was the expanse of the room itself, with three shower heads deigning the initial bathing area and a pillar in the center of the room with a hanging hook on each face of it.

The door shut behind him, the echoing click of the lock ringing in the silence.

Both digimon and human stood for a moment in the quiet and eyed each other—the girl in wary defeat and the mega at a loss. Making a decision, Beelzemon slowly removed the girl's bound arms from his neck and set her onto her feet.

She gave him an anxious look with those ocean eyes of hers, but he ignored it in favor of turning towards the dressing area and loosening the straps of his ensemble.

The human took a fearful step back, but the mega's tail quickly curled between her bound hands. Her shouts of protest were muffled beneath the gag as she was forcibly dragged behind the Demon Lord into the changing room, struggling harder when the grinding of zippers becoming undone ripped through the air.

Beelzemon gave her an amused glance over his shoulder before tossing his jacket onto a bench. He deftly used his tail to hang the human's bound wrists to a hook like a bathrobe, at a height that left the panicked girl scrambling for purchase on her toes. Then the mega sat on a bench directly in her blind spot and observed her as he unlaced his boots.

She struggled with the hook, trying to find leverage to free herself while also trying to locate where the lord disappeared to. Ominous sounding thumps issued from behind her, along the clinks and clangs of metal and the ever familiar rip of zippers that made her shake in her bonds. Agonizing terror strangled her thoughts into imagining the worst—it was made clear to her that whatever the digimon had in mind for her, it was less than innocent.

Cold, metal-encased hands circled her forearms, and the human froze. Beelzemon eased her off the hook and back on solid ground, and the girl gave a discernible plea when she felt the heat of naked flesh through the thin dress.

"Hush," came the scathing hiss from the Demon Lord. He took hold of her wrists in one hand and turned her around harshly, showing that his pants remained on his hips—unfastened and slung low, but offering some modesty. "I won't touch you until that filth's stench is washed from your skin."

A noticeable swallow pained the girl's expression. Despite herself, she took in what was exposed before her with a sort of relief that he didn't have any 'surprises' in store for her.

Pale, gray skin stretched tightly over lithe, slender muscles. His flesh seemed as solid as the metal o his gauntlets, with a defined torso trimming down into narrow hips. A splattering of scale-like freckles trailed down from the navel area to disappear under the folds of his pants. Shame bloomed on her cheeks when she realized where her eyes traced the happy trail at and quickly glanced away. The girl was further ashamed of her traitorous thoughts that wondered how much further those freckles went.

Beelzemon debated mentally as he looked down at her, but quickly made up his mind. He hissed again when the human flinched as a clawed finger slid underneath the strap of her dress, "Don't move if you value your skin."

Predictably, she froze and gave a short sob as his claw easily sheared through her dress, slicing away her last shred of modesty and dignity. The cloth fluttered down her curves and pooled around her feet, and the girl looked away as her _benefactor_ became exposed to her nudity.

Because it was in his instinct, all three of his eyes became attached to her bared curves and the groomed patch in between her legs in a way that was less lustful and more appraising, as if assuring that the final product that he was given was worth the trouble. Healthy skin tone, heavy breasts and wide hips were clearly the signs of a virile female, and he was pleased to note that her body seemed soft and pliant.

It told him that this human wasn't used to pain and injury, and would fall easily under his control under the right threats.

Her flush brightened and spread from her neck to her chest the longer he gazed at her (a feature that he would not admit to find appealing, and thus did not wonder about where else her flush could reach), and another muffled sob escaped her throat. The same finger as before slipped beneath her gag and severed it as easily as her dress. The corners of her mouth burned with relief as it fell away, evidenced by the raw redness left behind. Her binding was quickly cut as well, and the human became confused when the Glutton Lord herded her backwards a few steps before letting go and turning away, only leaving his tail to curl around her left knee.

"Wha—" A stream of lukewarm water cut her off, and she sputtered at the full blast from the showerhead to the face. The tail at her leg allowed just enough slack to back away from the direct stream, but no further. Pushing her wet hair from her eyes, the girl gave her newest handler a nervous glance.

His back was to her as he fiddled with his gauntlets, but after a moment he tossed her an annoyed glare. "There's a point to the shower, you know. It's called _bathing_."

Her dark eyes snapped away with a squeak when she noticed the inlaid cubby of hygiene products, eagerly setting herself to rummage through it.

Beelzemon observed his human for a moment, pleased when she started viciously scrubbing her skin pink. Satisfied that the signature of the Pride Lord and the recently coded devimon was being dealt with, he discarded his pants and mask with the rest of his belongings to begin his own shower.

It felt odd to reveal his face in front of another, but he had a feeling that the human could care less what his face looked like after being exposed to the likes of Daemon. Then again, it wasn't as if her opinion mattered in the slightest. Her strength could barely measure up to even a rookie, and thus it was laughable to think of her as a threat, let alone an equal.

He quickly went through his usual rituals and turned off his shower, noticing that the girl was still scrubbing at her hair. Annoyance flashed through him but was quickly forgotten, and the demon lord quickly found a towel to wrap around his waist. The human's timidity seems to become more apparent as more skin is exposed, and Beelzemon needed to make sure that the girl would look him in the eye instead of cower away when he gets to explaining her delicate situation.

As soon as the last of the suds disappeared, the mega turned her shower off and carelessly tossed a towel over her head. Ignoring her indignant squawks as the human attempted to wrestle with it, Beelzemon impatiently wound his tail around one of her wrists and lead her towards the door to the secondary bathing area.

She stumbled behind him in surprise while still struggling with her towel. "W-wait!" she stuttered desperately, and the Glutton Lord spared her a bemused glance before acquiescing, letting his tail drop from her wrist as he turned to close the door behind him.

Unfortunately, the human continued on blindly. It was with a short shriek that she announced her abrupt plummet into the hot springs.

Beelzemon rounded sharply at her cry, and his three eyes widened in genuine surprise. But the sight of the human surfacing gracelessly without her towel, squawking "hothothothot!" as she scrambled for purchase, was too good to keep his amusement to merely his lips.

The girl flinched as the digimon's loud guffaws echoed in the hot spring chamber, and her flushed features burned even brighter on how foolish she must have been. She squeaked in further mortification when she realized that her towel was lost in the debacle and her breasts, pinked from the heat, were exposed to their full glory. Her body sunk into the waters up to her chin in embarrassment.

Dark blue eyes blinked confused when a soaking wet towel floated before them, a metal-plated tail keeping it aloft. Thoughtlessly, the human glanced up at the digimon that was titled her benefactor, underestimating her position, his height, and the shortness of the towel at his waist.

"Ohmygod!" Another squeal left the girl in a mortified manner as she caught an eyeful of her captor's package. His laughter renewed at her quick snatch of the towel and even quicker retreat at the opposite end of the spring.

As a light-hearted grin remained on his face (when was the last time that he laughed so hard before?), his red eyes caught the curves of her rear underneath the surface in the wake of her retreat. Not quite his usual taste, but the demon lord could admit that his human had features that he could grow to appreciate, especially if she proved half as pleasurable as she was entertaining. In the end, he might actually _enjoy_ having her around.

"Perhaps you humans aren't as useless as I thought," he mused to her absently as he eased into the heated waters, an act far smoother and elegant than the girl's graceless plunge. A groan rumbled through his chest as the heat soothed his tense muscles, and Beelzemon lazily drifted through the water with his tail silently propelling him forward. "You're far more entertaining than I anticipated."

As the Glutton Lord floated along, the girl watched him cautiously. She kept her eyes on his face and chest, as his towel had become far more transparent and less modest than what she was comfortable with. But as she got a closer look at her captor in a pleasant state, she found it hard to not admit that he was…handsome, if in a rugged, can-kill-with-a-look way. There was some human distinctions to him, such the angular jaw and cheekbones, the straight nose, and the thick column of his throat with a bobbing Adam's apple; however, anything else remotely human was taken away by the ashen gray of his skin, the protruding fangs from his lower jaw between his lips, the vertical fold of skin on his forehead for his third eye, and the smatterings of scale-like freckles decorating his skin.

Without that encompassing purple helm of his, the human was able to examine how his jaw tapered to a narrow chin and the delicate freckles that traced along his cheekbones and the outer area of his eyes towards his temples. They didn't cross the bridge of his nose, she mused, and it was a strangely exotic look that she's never seen before. He looked calm and content, a heavy contrast to the cold fury and maliciousness that she was exposed to earlier.

If it was her fate to be his prisoner, slave, _toy_…then she could only hope to do whatever needed to keep his current expression on his face. She had no desire to experience his fury for a second time, let alone directed at _her_.

A single red eye cracked open to peer back at her, and she quickly dropped her gaze.

Another groan rumbled like thunder from his chest, and Beelzemon floated towards an upraised nook of the springs. It seated him comfortably as he clambered on, with a curved wall supporting his back and the lip of the springs giving him a rest to place his arms upon. Once seated, he sprawled out lazily, consequently loosening his towel to the point that it barely covered his lap as his legs stretched out.

The human kept her eyes down, but a dark blush bloomed as those brief flashes that she had seen of her captor printed themselves fully into her mind.

"Human." She jerked at his voice and reflexively looked up, but quickly focused on his chest with a squeak. The Glutton Lord cocked his head to the side, seemingly observing her for the moment, then announced in a deceptively light manner. "It's time that you understood your predicament."

A cold shudder slithered down her spine at his words. The girl visibly shrunk into herself, wishing that she was back in her apartment with a bowl of cereal and a comedy movie to forget this nightmare.

"Come here."

She started shaking in spite of the heat that enveloped her, but she slowly forced herself to move. Her eyes avoided his expectant gaze, jaw tensely clenched as she swallowed down her whimpers, but it didn't stop the yelp from escaping when the digimon snatched her by the arms and dragged her into his lap.

A rough hand cupped the back of her left knee while the other took hold of her chin, and her hands desperately held onto his forearm in a wordless plea. It was with further horror that she realized that her towel had once again been lost into the springs, and it was only by the flimsy presence of his towel that kept her from being taken. Sobs shook her frame as she waited for the inevitable.

Beelzemon waited as his human gave in to the fit of panic that had been brewing in her since her capture. Her hands clutched feebly around his arm, and her eyes stayed clenched in expectation for his unwanted, intruding touch as tears squeezed past them. He remained calm, breathing evenly while her panicked sobs left her shaking in his hold, while his thumb placed soothing circles along the soft skin of her thigh.

As he waited for the girl to regain her senses, the mega once again familiarized himself with her features. A pretty human to say the least, as there was something that appealed to a rather primal part of his data about having a wet, naked female in his lap. His eyes couldn't help but be drawn to her quivering breasts and the way her long hair clung to their curves like painted ink. Her breath feathered over his thumb where he had hold of her chin, and his gaze lifted to her parted, trembling lips. He wondered if his human's lips were softer than any digiwomen that he's had before, or if she had a sweet taste on her breath like a saccharine elixir.

Her dark ocean eyes opened anxiously, and Beelzemon could see how her emotions roiled and warred within her. Such a weakness, he mused, to have one's heart showcased for all to see. He leaned in slightly, curious what reaction he might get, and was amused as one of her weak hands placed itself on his chest to ward him away. Only a few scant inches separated the demon lord from the human, a scene that could be observed as romantic if it wasn't for the girl's frightened expression and his unsympathetic gaze.

"Now that I have your attention," the Glutton Lord started, his voice a low rasp yet not mistakenly cutting in tone, "allow me to explain your role in this mess."

She had no where else to go, no way to lower her eyes from his sharp gaze, and so hesitantly nodded to show that she was listening.

Pleased, Beelzemon leaned back and continued, "Despite what you may thing, my hands are now tied in regards to you. Truthfully, I could care less for keeping you bound to my side—if it was up to me, you would be in the middle of a forest far away from _me_." He didn't even lie to the human; the demon lord had no desire to keep something as pathetic and useless as a human that was stupid enough to get caught by _rookies_ of all things.

Surprise filled his human's expression, and a spark of wary hope entered her eyes. His digital core pinged in reminder of that twinge that returned with a vengeance, conveniently placed underneath her soft hand resting on his chest. A flinch nearly caught him off guard before he reined it in, and he forced himself closer as his face twisted in a glower to regain his mental footing. Her frantic cringe back wasn't nearly as satisfying as he wanted.

"Unfortunately there are some politics in regard to our delicate situation," he hissed in frustration. "Lucemon expects me to find some use out of you, and merely releasing you go would just end up with you being returned into my hold—damn glitch is tenacious like that." At her paled face, Beelzemon gave a scoff. "Not only that, but that harpy will do anything to paint me in a traitor's light. Appearing sympathetic to my human prisoner?" His eyes rolled in derision and he sneered. "I'm rebellious, not suicidal."

His hand released her jaw, and his human lowered her eyes in despondent thought. Arms crossed to hide her breasts from his eyes, and the Glutton Lord allowed this—there would be plenty of chances later on.

Silence remained between them for the moment, and he briefly wondered what was going on in her head. What thoughts caused her to draw her lip between her blunt teeth and worry it? What made her shoulders hunch together so she could appear even smaller in his lap?

Beelzemon observed these little actions, and was surprised to find himself _fascinated_ by her little quirks. His peers only showed the extremes of their personalities, and all others carried a detached hollowness to them. A false face, as if the spark of life had long since left their data. Yet with her, this little human prisoner, as her head wavered from side-to-side as if weighing options, fingers rising to her mouth to pluck at those bitten lips—

_Was this how humans are different?_ Came the unbidden thought with a sense of melancholy. _To appear so alive without even trying?_

_-"Humans have something that we don't, rookie."-_

"Um…" His gaze darted from her lips to those ocean eyes again, and he ignored how she flinched away. "S-so…what do you want from me?" Her voice—_soft, low and smooth_—was hesitant and slow, as if she was dreading the answer as soon as she spoke the question.

A thoughtful hum left him, and the demon lord pursed his mouth slightly as he looked up and debated with the ceiling. "What would a human be useful for…?"

The girl's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she caught the rhetorical tone to the question, and glanced at him with—_oh my, would she even dare?—_an expression that he nearly mistook for as a glare.

-_"A soul cannot be replicated in data."-_

A jagged smile stretched his lips thin; his human was proving to be most amusing. "I'm not a very picky digimon, human, nor am I overly complicated. I'm sure you've figured out the majority of my desires." She gave a slight grimace and looked away, shuddering as his long fingers shifted against the skin of her thigh. His smile faded and a serious glint sharpened his eyes. "Relax human, forcing myself on others isn't my way to go. I get more satisfaction out of a fight than a fuck, and fighting you is just plain pathetic. Make no mistake."

His hands were back on her, and a cry escaped her lips while her weak hands clawed to gain purchase on his shoulders as her hips smacked against his. Long fingers tangled into her hair, the other having pushed their hips together, and the friction of her core meeting his lower torso in a rough grind made an arch of her back and a breathless gasp to escape.

He held her like so, keeping her head tilted back as he calmly leaned in and nudged the racing pulse at her throat with his nose. His lips dragged a feather-light trail from collarbone to ear, to which he promised evenly, "You will come crawling on hands and knees. You will come seeking my touch, wanting it, _begging it_. You will reach for me, wanting to _please_ me, and it will be only then that I will take you."

The heat muddled her mind, and she panted in equal parts of fear and reluctant arousal. Body betraying her with a quivering stomach and a fuzzy tongue, a tear escaped from the ocean of her eye as she went limp and waited for the heat to pass.

His red, gleaming eyes analyzed the weaknesses her body displayed—_the pleasant flush spreading down her torso, lips opening in a delicate o, a tangy scent permeating the air between them_—and he gave a pleased huff against her throat. "I only have two rules, human: stay at my side at all times, and trust only yourself."

She twitched as the hand tangled in her hair guided her head until human and digimon stared eye to eye. Breaths only coming in shuddered pants, the girl trembled at the scorching intensity in his gaze and wondered if she was a fool for believing him.

"For now," the mega mused as he drew his hand from her hip to trace the curve of her stomach, "perhaps a reward for being a good human."

Eyes and mouth simultaneously widened when his hand arbitrarily cupped her groomed mound, its heel pressing against the bundled nerves of her clit as the two middle fingers separated the sensitive lips. It was a slow act, him testing the waters of her sensitivity, and her stomach clenched as a strangled moan escaped her parted lips.

The demon lord rocked his hand slowly against her, grinding the heel of his hand while rubbing the slick skin around her core as he took in her reactions. It confused him that she didn't move against his hand to either move away or grind harder against him, merely seizing into immobility as her fingers clutched his shoulders in a white-knuckled grip.

At that time—_a horrified realization making the data in his core churn sickly_—he noticed it.

"Human, breathe!" Beelzemon barked in panic, jerking his hands away to take hold of her arms and hold her upright as he didn't know what to do. She became limp in his hold, but she began taking fast and deep breaths to his relief. He sighed and allowed the human to slump against his chest to regain her breath while he calmed his own racing data. "Slowly now, breathe…"

After a moment, the girl drew her arms close and shook with sobs that wracked her body. Her mind tore between the fear she held for her captor and the pleasure that he gave her that still blazed trails through her veins. It was Hell—_oh, but it was Heaven too_—feeling his rough skin against hers—_touching all the right places!_—and her head spun that she no longer knew up from down and right and wrong.

Beelzemon's jaw tensed and he looked away from the human, out of his depth as she cried against him while knowing that he was the reason _why_ she was crying. His eyes clenched shut and head tilted back as a second realization struck him. "You're fucking Untouched, aren't you?"

A hiccup interrupted her sobbing, but the way she drew into herself tighter was answer enough for him. Another long-suffering sigh escaped him, and he placed an arm around her before he rose from the baths and carried her out to the door of the previous room. Her eyes gazed silently at him, tears still trailing down her face but remained strangely docile in his hold. The demon lord stopped right before the door, and gave her a solemn look. "Rule three," he murmured to her as he opened the door, "don't tell anyone else."

Her lip trembled, but a sort of resolve firmed her into tensing it and nodding to him in understanding.

_Is this…_

The mega slowly set his human on a bench and handed her another towel to dry with as he turned to his own items, reaching for his pants and hastily placed them on. He sat on his own bench, back to the girl, as he went for his boots.

A gentle touch at his back stilled his actions.

_Is this the soul that I see…?_

Beelzemon looked over his shoulder and saw her standing there, biting her lip nervously while clutching the towel to her chest. She paused, hesitant, then closed in to rest her forehead against his back.

"…thank you." Came the quiet whisper of his human, and he nearly shuddered as her hand lightly trailed down his back—_she's Untouched, has no clue what that touch does to him, but fuck he wanted her to do that again_—while she trustingly leaned against him.

_…that you told me about…?_

A heavy exhale left him, but he acknowledged her trust with a nod. "Just do what I say, and we'll see where this goes."

Digimon and human remained in silence, while both contemplated on how complicated everything became so suddenly.

_Be with me now…Master…_

* * *

><p><strong>Little longer than usual, but I hope the slight lime in there makes up for it. Sorry for being on hiatus for so long, didn't mean to, honest. Good news is, smut begins next chapter in "The Prisoner Arc I: The Surrender", so see you all then!<strong>


	4. 4 Prisoner Arc 1: The Surrender

_The Prisoner Arc I: The Surrender_

_Run._

She took the corner sharper than she intended, banging a knee on to the floor when her feet twisted and slipped. Scrambling back up nearly made her fall head over heels from her momentum, but she—_had no time to waste, gotta move now, move, moveMOVE!_—regained herself quickly and continued her frenzied run. The human's breath came in fearful pants as malevolent chuckles and hounding taunts echoed around her.

The shoulder of her new clothes was torn by one of her assailants before she had managed to flee them. Fabric fluttered behind her like frantic wings as she ran through the dimly lit halls and caverns, and a yelp escaped her paled lips when a pursuer's hand—_groping, the unwanted touch tearing and scratching, hurts, stopitstopitno_—grazed it in an attempt to seize her.

_Hide!_

Ocean eyes closed tightly; taking a deep breath, the girl suddenly changed course with no warning and doubled-back the way she came. Clumsy grapples brushed against her, and her pursuers cursed in surprise and ire as they found themselves being tripped and stumbling over each other trying to follow, buying her some precious time and distance. While they tried to gather themselves, she had already braved ahead and disappeared into the darkness.

She found what seemed to be the darkest corner in a quick enough manner. The human huddled in it, seeking to slow her panicked breathing and slapped a hand around her mouth to smother her whimpers and cries.

_Wait…_

Her assailants showed up shortly after, the dimming lights from the halls revealing their demonic forms briefly as they hurried past with jeers screaming from their lips and evil glares in their eyes.

A sharp, muffled sob shook her shoulders. The girl curled into herself with tears beading on her lashes, sliding into a ball on the floor as her knee throbbed and her chest tightened with a burning ache from containing her cries. A shaking hand grasped onto the pendant hanging from her throat—_a simple thing, an uncut stone attached to a thick chain, the look in his eyes when he told her never to take it off_—and she hoped that he kept to his promise.

…_**Sometime Earlier…**_

She was beginning to understand what Einstein meant by the relativity of time.

Based on how many times she's fallen asleep, she assumed that five days have passed since being taken prisoner.

The human quickly realized that her keeper liked to keep to a relative routine. He took at least two baths daily, and cleaned his guns at least twice as much; she found it fascinating to watch his compulsive need for cleanliness, though it was annoying how he also enforced a bath on her as often as possible. While the area that they kept to seemed to be in perpetual twilight, the Glutton Lord took to dragging her out of his cave late in the day to patrol around the mountain and the edges of a nearby village on—_how weird to have one, though she admitted that it completed the look—_a motorcycle that was named Behemoth.

She never saw him sleep. The digimon always seemed to have his hands busy or just stood guard at the opening of the cave of the tall mountain that made his home, yet the digimon himself never seemed to tire. He ate plenty, about twice as much than what she could stomach at a single sitting, and often times looked like he was restless yet content at the same time.

It disturbed her that she suddenly felt so at ease around him. The confident promise he spoke of at the baths—_"You will come crawling…seeking to please __**me**__"_—echoed in her dreams still, making her break in shudders when she thought of them, yet the girl couldn't deny the heat curling in her gut with the phantom memory of his hand. The Glutton Lord terrified the ebonette with his stoic stare and itching trigger finger; annoyed her when his boisterous laughter would sound every time she squeaked in surprise if a passing digimon happened to startle her. He confused her with random gifts and acts that could be almost seen as kindness—finding herself waking in his bed every morning when she was sure that she fell asleep sitting in a corner, and seeing clothes laid out next to her to be worn for the day.

She chewed on her lip in thought as the girl took in the most recent outfit, furrowing her brows at the choice of top for the day. Black pants styled like that of a _hakama_, if her otaku side remembered correctly, that tied high at the waist yet left her hips and the top of her thighs bared due to the gaping holes in the design. A black binding wrapped around her breasts, serving no greater purpose than that of a strapless bra, and a billowing over-shirt that buttoned underneath her bust to tuck into the _hakama_ was made from a sheer purple material, hardly making her feel comfortable. It didn't escape the human's notice that she had been dressed in her keeper's colors today.

A memory rose to the forefront of her mind as she fiddled with a sleeve. It had been straight after they had left the baths that night that the mega known as Beelzemon took her through the village; no sudden and dizzying travel through the shadows again, which the girl had been most thankful for. He had let her walk next to him, though the demon lord always made sure that she was within arm's reach or had curled his tail around her waist if she seemed to drift away. The flower woman—_couldn't meet her eyes, the hollow smile staining her lips, looked away as if she didn't exist_—had spared her a bath robe and outdoor slippers to ward off the chill until her keeper finished his business in the village.

The reception that had greeted them as they traversed the village streets still baffled her.

_/"Beelzemon!"_

"_Welcome back, Beelzemon!"_

"_You were gone too long this time!"_

"_Did you bring any candy?"_

_The human gawped at the mass of tiny bodies that swarmed her and her keeper. Most were gray with massive, wing-like ears, but there were some that looked like blobs of either black or pink, and all of them cried joyously at the sight of the fearsome Glutton Lord._

_Said mega showed no outward response to the happiness directed at him, dutifully ignoring their voices with a cold stare forward. Nothing softened the straight line of his lips or kindled warmth in those red eyes; his expression remained straight and unchanged, and it would've chilled her if the delightful clamor didn't surround her still. Yet the child-like monsters weren't discouraged by the indifferent demeanor, instead they hopped out of his way gleefully or followed behind while chanting his name._

_She felt as if someone had pulled the rug right out from under her. The shock numbed her slightly, but confusion whorled her mind as her view of this world tilted on its axis and inverted itself. Her first moments in this world had been filled with nothing but darkness and fear, surrounded by those with malicious intent or hollowed from past sins, and seeing the child-like innocence among these infant monsters caused her eyes to water and throat to burn._

_The demon lord had pulled away slightly as she gazed unsurely at the flock, and it was all the permission that they needed._

_An embarrassingly loud yelp escaped her as a tidal of tiny bodies swept her up and started carrying her off. The child-monsters laughed unconcerned and squeaked mockingly back at her._

_Her frantic eyes went straight to her keeper, and only when she saw his laughing expression at her plight that her face began to burn brightly._

"_Relax human," he called to her, an amused glint kindling in his eyes and a touch of a smile on his lips, as his words were echoed by squeaking high-pitched voices. "They're only taking you to dinner."/_

The digimon children had, in fact, treated her to a buffet of strange foods that night—_the green apple she bit into burst with the flavor of lemon-peppered chicken, the squealing laughter of those around her when she choked with surprise_—and afterwards had kept her busy by forcing her to play several rounds of tag. It was…liberating to act like a carefree child again, and with each laugh that left her that night, she had felt the fear that suffocated her being pushed further and further away.

She had fallen asleep in a dog-pile of tiny bodies long before her keeper came back for her. There was a vague awareness of feeling them being pushed off before warmth surrounded her in the form of strong arms cradling her to a chest. The pride in her had been stung with the indignity of being carried like a child so many times that night, but her heart had snapped back and relished the contact like one would the sun after being neglected from it for so long. _After all_, her heart had reasoned while her lethargic mind slowly digested it and wounded pride had gone away to sulk, _when was the last time?_

_/Hands that were once large and strong that once held her entire world in them felt so frail as they tried to soothe her sorrows away—/_

A hand slapped against her thigh before the girl lost herself too far in that particular memory, even as tears gathered to her ocean eyes as the brief vision of dark hair and a gruff smile flitted before her like a ghost. She rubbed them away roughly, reminding herself that she couldn't afford to break apart now, and glanced to the opening of the cave that served as her keeper's lair.

Beelzemon was standing guard as he often did, his back to her with the dim glow of the ever-present twilight haloed around him. While grateful, it puzzled her that he had yet to take liberties since that night at the hot springs. The mega seemed to be more at a loss since he affirmed her virginity—_"You're fucking Untouched, aren't you?"—_and kept contact at a bare minimum between them; the helpless look in his eyes when he stared at her when the demon lord thought she didn't notice made her think that they weren't in two entirely different boats. The girl could admit to being curious on why that fact made such a big difference to him, but every time the opportunity arose to ask questions they were dashed by a wary shyness that was hesitant to break the calm.

As if feeling her stare, the Glutton Lord glanced back over his shoulder at her while pushing off from the cave wall. Though his expression was blank, seemingly deep in thought, the air around him felt tense and electric. She felt as if she were gazing at a distant storm—not yet feeling the screaming winds, but able to see its fearsome power heading her way.

His three eyes seemed to glow in the twilight as he gazed at her. Pale blue lips were curled in a slight frown, and the girl gave a look of wary inquiry.

"Something's happened," he remarked lowly, flashing his eyes back to the mouth of the cave as a displeased sneer formed on his lips. "Lucemon's demanding another Congregation, so someone has either screwed up royally or about to for one to be called so soon. Unfortunately that means you have to come with; I have no doubt that someone will attempt to snatch you the moment I'm away."

The girl took a step back and paled slightly. Her keeper frowned deeper then walked over to be by her side. It was only when he unfolded his arms that she noticed the parcel in his hold.

"What's that?" The words escaped her before she could reel them in, and she automatically ducked her head shyly with a warm blush.

A twitch of a smile graced his expression for the briefest moment. "Why so shy, human? It's for you."

Her head snapped up in surprise, and she watched him unfold the package in interest. A mischievous light glinted in his red eyes, and as soon as the contents of the package unfolded in his hands he tossed it at her without any warning.

The squawk from the surprise attack of fabric was muffled when her gift ended up wrapped around her head. It did not, however, muffle the boisterous laughter at her struggles and whines of frustration when the fabric refused to release its prisoner.

"You're so pitiful," the mega commented good-naturedly with a smile stretching across his face. "It's like watching an In-Training fight its way out of a wet paper bag; pathetic but funny as hell." When he finally took pity on the human, he pulled the fabric to the side and was thanked with a displeased, ocean-colored glare. The Glutton Lord acknowledged it with an inelegant snort. "How terrifying, human. I quake before you."

Her indignant blushing coupled with barred teeth and twitching eye only served to cause him further amusement, as evident by the smirk he held even as his clawed gauntlets assisted his human in correctly adorning his gift.

Wounded pride reared its ugly head within her, but the girl quickly reined it by taking the corner of her mouth between her teeth and biting down lightly. The patronizing was one thing she could go without on a daily basis with her keeper, and it incensed her to be treated like a child. He hadn't even asked for her name—though she had no fantasies of the demon lord ever treating her as an equal, she wasn't prepared for the _constant_ belittling and how matter of fact he was about it all.

The human was intimately aware of how powerful her keeper was; she did not care for the continual reminders.

Whether it was human nature to be frequently contradictory or if it was just her bitterness of the situation getting the best of her, she couldn't help the childish act of pouting fearsomely while refusing to look at the mega. Her arms even went as far as stiffly crossing over themselves, interrupting her keeper from fiddling with a zipper on her newest garment.

He paused, and even with the helm one couldn't mistake the expression of incredulity that crossed his face.

"Are…" the digimon started, his words stumbling through lips that trembled with mirth, "are you really _pouting_?"

She gave a disinterested shrug, still glaring at a far wall.

As such, the girl didn't notice the impish grin that settled his lips until it was too late.

The feeling of something warm and slimy worming itself in one's ear is often an unpleasant sensation, especially if the one in question isn't expecting it. Thus it came to no surprise when the shrill squeal left the affronted human.

"Gross!" the ebonette howled while hopping away, using the palm of her heel to ground out the cold wetness his tongue left behind in her ear. "That is so _gross_! Why would you _do_ that? Eeew~!"

The accomplished, smug look on his face spoke of all the reason he needed. More loud laughter left him at her continued whining; however Beelzemon graciously backed off to allow his human to gain her bearings and went back to the mouth of the cave to intercept a pink bird-digimon messenger.

She sent a disgusted glare at his back, darkly muttering insults under her breath as she did so. Then the girl noticed the gift that draped over her.

_Oh…_ Her thoughts stopped and stuttered and struggled to acknowledge that the digimon that just gave her a wet willy was also the same one who provided such a comfort. A long black coat made from loose, thick cloth with the ends brushing the tops of her feet covered every inch of her body that her current garments made her self-conscious about. Its style reminded her of the western dusters that she watched and envied about on television screens, with additional features like the strap going across where the zipper ended at her throat and a hood that she gleefully threw over her head.

"Good," came his voice from behind, and the girl stiffened and sharply turned to face him. The mega stared back at her approvingly. "It fits."

A pale hand removed the hood slowly, and her dark tresses spilled back over her shoulders. She blinked when a loosely clenched fist rose before her face, and her eyes focused on the pendant swinging between his fingers.

It was a simple thing, an uncut but smooth stone barely the size of a quarter. It hung from a thick chain with wire wrapping to keep from disturbing its smooth surface, and with it cast in direct twilight the girl mistakenly thought that it was clear; only when Beelzemon lowered the pendant into the shadow did she notice its true beauty. Enthralled, the human couldn't help but delicately balance the pendant on her fingertips and tilt it back and forth to witness the pearlescent rays captured in the milky stone. A gentle sigh of wonder left her as she took in the soft shades of blues and violets and the slight glimmer of data that was embedded into it, telling her that it was something of the world she was taken to and not from the one she called home.

The pendant slipped from her fingers as her keeper placed the necklace around her throat. A snug fit due to the short chain, as the stone came to rest below the hollow of her collarbones, but it was something that she could easily get used to.

Cold, metal fingers curled around her jaw and eased her head up. The girl swallowed uneasily as her ocean gaze took in the grim expression of the mega before her.

From the shadows cast by his helm, three eyes as dark as blood glimmered back at her with an unnatural glow. "Never take it off, human," he softly demanded, urging the seriousness of the situation with the frown resting on his lips. "I don't trust any of them, and someone will separate you from my side tonight. That thing around your neck might be your only protection, do you understand?"

Shaking fingers hastily moved the pendant under the collar of her new coat.

"Good girl."

With no further ado, the Glutton Lord swept her into his arms and carried her into the darkness.

-/-\-

_/He waited until the pagumon carried her off out of sight before carrying on through the village. A kapurimon bounced into his path and quietly greeted the mega._

"_In here, Sir Beelzemon," the tiny purple-ringed child-mon directed, twilight shining dully on its metal cap. It bounded back towards an alley between two huts with the demon lord following easily behind, and within moments both digimon came to a humble yurt._

_With a nod, the kapurimon dismissed itself leaving Beelzemon to continue through the curtained threshold. Within the yurt was dark, though cluttered by bits and pieces of rubbish. Metal shards and rock dust shimmered from the light of a single candle that staved off the darkness, and the mega bypassed all the odds and ends to come before the light._

_The slithering sound of shifting fabric broke the silence, the cause hidden in the shadows still. "Been awhile since you've come around."_

_Beelzemon didn't even flinch at the sudden appearance of a gangly creature wrapped completely in metal-studded belts, a blue tail contrasting with its white body and a pair of feathered wings looking out of place on the lanky being. An X-shaped belt crossed over its eyes, rendering the creature blind to all yet its head cocked to the demon lord's direction._

_The Glutton Lord looked back coolly. "Gargoylemon, I'm calling in a favor."_

"_Straight to business as usual," cackled the winged creature as it lumbered through the darkness. Its raspy voice continued even as objects clattered noisily in the darkness, "No 'How've you been, Gargoylemon?' or 'Nice haircut you got there, Gargoylemon'. Always 'Do this' or 'Make that'—'I'm calling in a favor, Gargoylemon'. Bah, no respect."_

_The biker-esque mega easily ignored the rant and sat on a stone bench before the lighted candle. He tugged off his vest then opened his jacket, barring his naked chest and narrowing his crimson eyes into the darkness. "Time is short, Lucemon is acting more erratic then usual and the window of opportunity is closing fast. I can't be worried about anything else—I need your particular crafting skill."_

_Its head popped back into the borders of the light with quivering, winged ears. "Little soon to be so concerned about your new human pet, isn't it?"_

_Berenjena's safety clicked off loudly, and the belted creature shrugged. "No questions about the human. Noted."_

_Beelzemon didn't know how it knew about his newest addition, and didn't care to ask. As he waited, his resolve to go through the next procedures merely firmed in spite of Gargoylemon's relevant question. The events at the bath kept circling his thoughts—her flushed skin, dark eyes welling with tears, __**Untouched**__—and the only answer that came to him was the Memory._

_**/Rain and flashes of light. A battle that forever scarred the land. A malevolent grin flashing in the darkness and his master's hollow face before exploding to data./**_

_Never again. Cold fury sharpened his glare as the thought repeated like a mantra. Never. Again._

_Gargoylemon reappeared before him then, whistling lowly at his expression. "Yowch, careful where you aim those eyes of yours. Might set something on fire." It whipped out an impressively sized, empty syringe at this point with a wickedly enthusiastic grin on its face. "Won't lie, this is going to hurt a lot."_

_With that the creature stabbed the syringe in the mega's chest with all the force it could muster, its aim directly hitting where a human's heart would be._

_Beelzemon gave a sharp yell and gnashed his teeth, but allowed the act to continue. He hissed painfully as the elongated claws raised the needle's plunger, drawing out brightly glowing, crystal-like liquid into the barrel._

"_If you're curious, I'm extracting data directly from your core," Gargoylemon informed distractedly. "Nothing consequential, should be replicated easily enough within the next few hours—but uh, do tell me if you get any blackouts, sudden increase of giddiness or appetite, or any extreme cravings or sensitivity okay? Can't be perfect all the time you know."_

_Within moments the barrel was filled, and the belted creature easily removed the needle. A blackened claw tapped the side of syringe and Gargoylemon nodded, satisfied. "Give me about three or four days, the data-stone should be set by then. I would advise you to stay until the dizziness passes though."_

_A growl tore through the demon lord's throat as the room spun in his vision. As his body suffered through the sudden loss of data—dizziness with an added dose of nausea to boot—Beelzemon took the creature's advice and settled. His human would be alright with the children until he came back./_

Crimson eyes stayed in a flat glare as Beelzemon lead his human through the darkened caverns of Twist Mountain—site of the Demon Lords' neutral grounds as well as the Congregation. His plated tail curled lightly around her waist; even through she followed tightly to his heels without any prompting, it seemed to settle the girl to have something solid around her when traversing the near-blinding darkness. He could tell by the slowing heartbeat that he felt pulsing next to his core.

The gargoyle's craft had not failed him; the data-stone created from his extracted data was serving its purpose brilliantly. Not only did it completely cover the girl in his Signature, but it will keep other digimon from trying to attach their own Signatures on her—hiding the human from any other digimon trying to trail or capture her, as the result would only cause the pursuers to bumble directly to the Glutton Lord instead. So any brave and stupid servants of even more idiotic masters that would think about trying to pull one over him would be repelled away from the human and towards him as they would try to hone in at the wrong Signature.

An unfortunate side effect that the mega overlooked, however, was that he could _feel_ his human.

All. The damn. _Time._

The rapid _thad-thump-thump_ that beat its own tempo at his core was incredibly distracting, as well as a tumultuous swirling energy that he only recently discovered was her emotions of all things. Cold _fear_ and twitching _anxiety_ merged in a nauseating mixture, relieved only by a reassuring _safe_ feeling that welled up whenever his tail curled around her waist. There were a dozen other feelings that were storming within her that the biker barely discerned, and it blew the mega over in waves that nearly placed a stumble in his step.

_Holy fuck_. Beelzemon gave a heavy sigh and shook his head slightly to clear it from his human's dizzying emotions. _No wonder the damn girl is so high-strung._

Just before entering the arena that served as the Congregation meeting place deep within Twist Mountain, the two halted before the sudden appearance of the golden-masked onii.

"Now just a moment there, Glutton Lord."

His metal plated hand reflexively attached to his human's shoulder as the Greed Lord approached them. While Beelzemon did not trust any of his fellow Demon Lords, Barbamon was amongst the top of the list that he wanted his human to steer clear from. It had the reputation of being a careless collector, eager to take anything that interested it but having no problems letting whatever it took wither away as long as it remained in its grasp. Barbamon was well known for even letting its servants die due to thoughtlessly letting them be cut down by an enemy or not even bothering to remember that they have need of sustenance as well.

There were few digimon that disgusted Beelzemon more than Barbamon did.

Its red eyes glanced at the human briefly before it sniffed imperiously and leered towards the biker-esque mega. The golden mask gleamed ghoulishly, and the girl smartly glued herself to her keeper's side. "As you have just arrived," Barbamon began, "I just wanted you to be informed that Lucemon has decreed that no one will be allowed to have their _servants_ present during the meeting Congregation. After the last one's debacle and Lust Lord's response…well, you must clearly understand that no one wants a repeat."

This came to no surprise for Beelzemon, having already anticipated such an excuse. As he felt his human tense and his link with the data-stone responding with numbing _horror_ the mega knew that she understood what this meant.

"All servants will have _free reign_ outside of the Congregation and must not disturb the meeting for any reason," the Greed Lord continued, a smirk appearing as it emphasized the hidden meaning in its words.

Beelzemon's expression was cold and uncaring to the demon lord's threat. "And the human?" he inquired with a tone that inferred that he cared not for the answer. "How am I certain that she won't find a way to escape?"

Barbamon's smirk stretched thinly. "Lucemon has taken care of that. With everyone here now, the Pride Lord is manipulating the datastream for this level of Twist Mountain to be a continuous loop of hallways that'll either have dead ends or result back to this point. The only way out is for one of us to open the Doorway; the human couldn't escape no matter how hard she tried." The golden-masked onii leered back down at her. "And I _insist_ that you try."

Having heard enough, Beelzemon callously dismissed his fellow lord while ignoring the incessant ping of uncontrollable _panic_ coming from the data-stone link with his human. He heard the low laughter of Barbamon echoing back, however his three eyes caught the eager and nefarious expressions of a few certain lords waiting in the arena beyond.

Lilithmon and Daemon, whispering together with a fiendish light in their eyes as they headed towards their thrones. Beelzemon held no doubt that those two were the key players in what was about to begin. Other than Lucemon, those two had the most amount of servants under their title out of any other lord present, and the Glutton Lord would bet his own core that Lilithmon had seduced the atrocious mega to fight for her team.

Off the bat he knew that Leviamon and Belphemon held no interest in either joining the upcoming event or siding to a team. Barbamon was a wild card—it could be hiding a couple of its servants among Lilithmon's and Daemon's throng, but it could easily just sit back and watch the chaos between him and them. And Lucemon wouldn't care either way, being the one instigating the hunt by enforcing the sudden "no servants during Congregation" rule and essentially making a maze for the human to be trapped in.

The odds were not stacked in her favor.

Knowing so, and still sensing the _panic_ through the link that was paralyzing the girl now, Beelzemon adjusted his grip from the human's shoulder to the back of her head. His tail forced her up against his front, and in a show of blatant domination to the gazes of all the others awaiting him tugged her head up into the perfect position for him to lean down and pull her into a bruising kiss.

The tilted angle of her head forced the girl's pale lips to part just before the Glutton Lord connected, allowing him unrestricted access to explore the new territory with his tongue. Her breath seized in a gasp when the mega brushed against her tongue only to stroke the sensitive roof of her mouth. Her ocean eyes snapped to his garnet ones with turbulent shock in her gaze, his with a stoic chill that did not match the fervor of his tongue dancing with hers.

Sensing _panic_ being replaced with the usual chaotic mixture of _confusion_, _fear_, and the curious hint of something warm and thrilling that sent a jolt to his core, Beelzemon pulled his lips away and trailed towards her ear as small, shaking hands found purchase on his leather jacket. To all others, he was making a show out of how easy it was for the girl to be overwhelmed to the point of panting as the uncontrollable blush bloomed across her face. And they all bought it with their hoots and whistles, a couple of them scoffing at the blatant performance.

As such, they didn't see the human stiffen and force her hands back down to her sides, nor watched how the Glutton Lord's mouth moved oddly against her ear as if he was speaking.

After a moment he straightened to a rigid line, the biker-mega's expression seemingly unmoved after the passionate display. He marched into the arena without hesitation, his frame eclipsing the human's smaller one with little difficulty as she was briefly hidden from all sight.

By the time he moved further into the Congregation, the human had disappeared.

-/-\-

"_They're hunting you."_

She ran as soon as her keeper turned his back, the words that he whispered still echoing in her ears.

"_They're hunting you."_ He had said like a sigh, his voice nearly inaudible from the sudden ringing in her hearing. _"As soon as I turn away, it'll start."_

Panic had nearly descended upon her again with these words. As if feeling it well up to overtake her, her keeper had once surprised her and took the ebonette's breath away with a gentle touch of his lips on the point between her jaw and ear to force her focus.

"_Keep moving if possible,"_ he had advised. _"They can't see in the dark any better than you, use it. Stay quiet. They only have power on their side, so if they get you, that's it. You can't escape, but you can hide. I'll find you."_

Then he stood up, looking like he hadn't just given her the best kiss she's ever had in her short life, and murmured the most terrifying words she's ever heard in her short life.

"_Now run."_

And she ran. She ran as the devils dogged at her heels, as indiscernible jeers and mocking taunts filled the dimly lit halls and caverns, as she felt the brushes of their hands seeking to take her. The stitch in her side had to be ignored, along with the burning in her lungs and calves. She never had to run as fast nor as far before, but at this moment the girl thought distantly that she could give the track team in her old high school a run for their money.

But her last turn was a mistake that became an abrupt end to her track.

A gnarled hand seized her upper arm and she gave a shrill scream, going into a blind panic with a blur of flailing limbs seeking to hit her assailant. More hands joined in and soon she was surrounded by grasping and groping and glowing leers and groans as they rubbed against her—

"Stop it!" she screamed hoarsely as she felt a couple of wandering hands trying to find the end of the zipper to release the coat that hindered any progress.

"_Stopit!_" Her pleas ignored. Hands painfully squeezed any available curve she had through the coat, a couple tried to cup and grind against her crotch with little success due to the design of her pants and only managed to grab her inner thighs. She felt more than heard the tearing of the shoulder of her coat when one got impatient enough and all the girl could think of was _that her first time was going to be a gang rape and it's gonna hurt—!_

"_NO!_" Fuelled with fear and adrenaline, she twisted like a crocodile in a death roll and there was sudden _freedom!_ as the hands were incapable of holding her tight. While curses and shouts sounded from her pursuers, the human took the chance and dashed through legs and reaching limbs and back to the open.

With torn fabric fluttering and curses shouted from behind, the chase continued.

And she ran.

-/-\-

Giving his human the data-stone was the worst decision for his health. During his early stages—when he still held a curiosity for all things human—he had heard rumors about their fragility in the form of what was called a heart attack.

Beelzemon could swear on his core that he was experiencing one at that moment.

His human's emotions ran rampant through the link; pounding _terror_ prevalent through the clouding _panic_ being chased with mind-numbing, repetitive need to _runrunrunRUN-!_

His own data ran through codes like human blood did veins, and it throbbed in time with the rapid staccato forcing its rhythm next his core. The Glutton Lord felt as if _he_ was the one being chased, the stone arms of his throne cracking under the pressure of his hands that he refused to acknowledge were trembling and that he was on the brink of hyperventilating. The conversation that his fellow lords were having passed over his head without any comprehension due to the ringing in his ears. Vision tunneled to a blur, jaw tensed so much that what looked like a vein started popping from his temple that was thankfully covered by his purple helm.

That was when he felt _pain_.

It wasn't excruciating or necessarily painful like a cut or a hit, merely present like a headache would be. But he felt it burn across his chest, his sides and hips, even his shoulders and thighs and it took every bit of his strength not to shatter his throne and gain attention.

They caught her.

With her emotions muddled like a soup and intensified to a point that nearly made him double over, the mega nearly believed he was right there sharing her trauma. Thoughts swam through on how there was so many of them and _will they go one at a time or altogether and it'll hurt so damn much_—

Then relief. _Freedom again! Run. Hide! Wait…_

Had Beelzemon been a weaker mon, he would be sharing in her sobs in time with the receding _terror_ now being taken over with hesitant _hope_ and awaiting _dread_ of a promise he swore to keep. Because he wasn't, however, the Glutton Lord instead took a depth breath and took advantage of his human's relative calm to try to push away her influence over the link. It took longer than he cared to admit for his emotions to stop echoing hers, but it was with a sense of accomplishment that the effect of the link became a faint reminder next to his core along with a weak pulse rather than the heavy staccato.

Regaining focus, Beelzemon just caught the tail end of Daemon's colorful tirade. "—stards never even saw it coming. Doubt the glitch can even walk to this day!"

Lucemon smiled benignly. "And we're all so glad that it's finally out of your system. Anyone else wish to share their latest conquest?"

A couple shifted in their thrones while other murmured under their breath, all glancing to see if anyone else will speak up. Daemon opened his mouth to start anew before a sharp look from his smutty partner in crime shut him up; the Lust Lord seemed particularly anxious to finish the meeting if the less-than-subtle glances at the exit didn't clue anyone in.

_The hunt_. Beelzemon's expression formed a half-scowl. He double-checked the link and was satisfied to note that the girl found a good place to hide and still hasn't been captured. _Bitch won't be so confidant when my human is back at my side. If I have to tear a few heads to get her back, well…_ The scowl shifted upward maliciously, and the biker relished in the taken-aback flinch that the digi-whore made in response. The fact that he had been glaring intensely since the start of the Congregation must have worn down her prissy façade if she was allowing others to notice her uneasy shifting—a response that Beelzemon was vindictively gleeful over.

Even with the tense atmosphere radiating from the Glutton Lord, Lucemon glanced around in an almost benevolent manner if the cruel gleam in his eyes hadn't given him away. "Well then, on that note I regret to inform everyone that another outpost in the south has been razed."

This caught everyone's attention. A grimace was found on nearly everyone's face, including his own. _The third outpost in the same area, and so close together too_. Beelzemon gritted his teeth. _With no one caught either…_

"Belphemon I advise you to be wary," the Pride Lord advised. "The attacks seem concentrated in your territory, I'd hate to have found that a surprise attack took you out."

"My lord," the Sloth Lord acquiesced with a tilt of its head, hardly the face of worry as the mega planted its chin back on its fist and started snoring away.

"…And with that, I decree that the Congregation adjourn. Until the next one, that is," the demonic angel simpered with the dismissal.

It took all that he had to not sprint out of the arena. However, the biker had the pleasure of sneaking behind Lilithmon and disappearing into the shadows before she could even think of following him. Opening the link to his human again, Beelzemon allowed her emotions to wash through his core and followed the invisible trail that tugged him through the endless loop of hallways.

The increasingly familiar myriad of sensations—that could only be described as complexly _human—_nearly sent him back into a haze, but he pushed through it and focused on the trail rather than the return of the heavy _thad-thump-thump_ coursing next to his core. As he analyzed the feeling, the mega was startled to realize that his human felt faded compared to the intensity he was constantly exposed to. The link was still a slew of dizzying emotional mixtures, but it felt—she felt very…

Slow. Distant. Still, but not calm.

There was a reaction of sick twisting in his core that Beelzemon did not like. He did not like feel of this faded wave over the link—did not like how it rolled through his data like syrup, thickening around his being and causing a heavier haze to fall on his mind…

The biker tightened the link and closed it as much as he could when he noticed how he slowed down considerably. Coding a couple of devimon punks along his way didn't do anything to raise his spirits; nothing would be able to scrap the sludge-like feeling his core was covered in.

His feet stopped. Beelzemon did not care to admit the moment that it took to register that fact, and that the reason was that he was at the end of the trail. Three garnet eyes drew themselves to a dark corner hardly touched with the torchlight where he felt the suppressed link pulsing from, and his ears strained to hear muffled breathing coming from it. It was with great trepidation that the Glutton Lord opened the link fully—forcing through that damning syrupy wave that crashed through him—and sent his own influence through to the data-stone.

A bright glow responded from the darkness, and Beelzemon finally glimpsed at his human from its harsh contrast.

She was an awful sight to behold; the right shoulder was torn from her gifted coat, but the gray-skinned mega counted his blessings that it seemed that the rest held up fairly well. He was more concerned about the glassy stare in her dark eyes paired with the stony, almost horrified expression fixed upon her face if he hadn't noticed the pale and shaking grip her hands had around the glowing data-stone.

"Human." Her body flinched but her face remained unchanged, nothing seemed to comprehend through her mind. A sensation akin to panic began welling in his core, but Beelzemon refused to acknowledge it. Instead he snatched the girl into his arms—_and she felt so cold and tense in them and he wanted her warm and draped across his chest with a soft look teasing her lips_—dampened the link—_where is the tempest and storm and what is this stillness befalling her now_—and got the hell out of dodge.

At that point, everything became a blur to him. Later on Beelzemon would remember flashes of his shadow travel back to Twila Town, instinctively seeking the bath house for sanctuary, before the next thing he knew they were both half-naked and sitting below a warm shower in his usual room.

His helm, gauntlets, and leather jacket were tossed carelessly with her overcoat and the sheer purple tunic she had underneath. The water streamed down his back, and she was enfolded within his lap with her face pressed against his naked chest and his arms keeping her there. The mega focused on the stark contrast of his gray skin against the pale peach of hers as he returned to the present. Skin-on-skin contact and the trickling water did wonders for his human, as she also slowly regained awareness and pulled herself closer with a soft whimper.

An exhale of relief escaped him as the back of his head met the tiled wall. "You will be the death of me, human."

"Diane."

The mega grunted inquiringly.

"My…my name is Diane," the ebonette whispered, a slight hitch in her voice. "Quit calling me _human_."

Beelzemon looked down at her genuinely confused. "You mean you all aren't called that?"

The incredulous glance she returned answered him.

"Huh, learn something new…"

She leaned back with an even more befuddled expression. "You honestly think that all humans just call themselves 'human' all the time?"

"Thought," he corrected. "Past tense, as in I no longer think that way."

A scoff escaped his human, and he was pleased to note that the distracting subject returned her previous vitality through the link. "So what, if another one of you was walking around-?"

"They would also be called beelzemon," the mega helpfully enlightened. "Our names encompass everything that we currently are, have been, or ever will be. Two digimon know each other upon sight, even if they have never met before. Are all human females named 'Diane' where you come from?"

"Not really," she frowned thoughtfully, and he studied the furrow in her brow with interest and relief at the unconscious—_human—_quirk. "Names are reused a lot, but not everyone is named the same or even for the same reasons, you know? One thing that humans want to be proud for is individuality, so there are hundreds upon thousands of names for someone to be stuck with, and more thought up every day."

"What do you mean by the reason for the name?"

"My mother named me after a really famous song in my world," her voice lowered to a whisper at the remembrance. "It was actually kind of embarrassing when I found out what that song meant in my middle school years, but it was one of her favorites. But there was another Diane that I met once named after a princess, or the Roman goddess, or a variation like Diana, Dana, Danni…"

Beelzemon was silent as he contemplated. "So many ways to separate yourselves from each other, just on a name alone," he observed.

His human—_Diane_, he reminded himself—shrugged back at him. "Humans like to believe that we're all unique, that there is only one of us in the entire universe and that we're here to leave a single footprint on the earth before disappearing forever, never to be seen in any likeness again."

"Unique…" the digimon mused. "Humans are unique…but digimon are reusable."

Diane physically did a double-take, ocean eyes staring at him as if his words were unthinkable. "Re-reusable?!"

He nodded wisely. "Digimon never die or decay, there really isn't an end for us. When we are defeated and coded, we return to a cycle of rebirth and awaken back at the beginning; only special circumstances would cause a digimon to cease existing. So we are not unique."

"I don't believe that." This time he had to stare at her, and the confidant look in her eyes caused a strange twist to his core. "Would another Bellzmon help me?"

He choked on air at the blatant, unintentional butchering of his name and the tense air diffused immediately. "Out of all the—seriously? Be-el-ze-mon, _Beelzemon_…"

She blinked. "…Oh." A mortified blush glowed on her face as she suddenly averted her eyes, and he couldn't help himself.

"Would you stop laughing at me?!" Diane growled at his abrupt guffawing, reflexively smacking his bare chest in frustration. A yelp escaped her as his arms pressed her tighter against him, and the ebonette was forced to straddle his lap while the mega continued to lightly chuckle into her ear.

"You are a riot," he purred back at her, and the blush on his human's face brightened almost dangerously as gray hands roamed to her exposed thighs. Her inhale hitched in a slight gasp as thumbs teasingly dipped in the space between material and skin to caress the inner thigh; his garnet eyes burned impishly when he felt her legs twitch and tighten around him. "To answer you, no. No other beelzemon would come for you…"

His superior digimon hearing caught the breathless whimper as he inched his hands toward the ebonette's hips, thumbs boldly stroking the heated flesh by kneading themselves further into her pants. For every inch he covered, the mega swore that it felt hotter and increasingly damp the more he continued, and there was a responding stir in his core that made the biker hiss out.

"…_because you're mine!_"

The link burst open and flooded his core with _heat_ and _instinct_ that made his control snap when her hands threaded through and pulled his blond hair, and her open mouth met his in a clumsy kiss she initiated. A different sort of haze descended as he allowed the girl to experiment with her tongue inelegantly; her technique left much to be desired, but the raw energy she used more than made up for it. It was at that point that Beelzemon noticed his hands tearing through her breast band and the sides of her _hakama_, fingernails scraping against the exposed skin, and they both shivered at tingly sensation. The digimon stared in a dazed manner over his human's shoulder when she disconnected their mouths to kiss along his jaw in a rough imitation of his earlier attentions.

_Hello, what's this…_? Came the sluggish, nearly drunk thought that floated barely in his conscious mind. The gray-skinned mega puzzled absently over that momentary shiver and what caused it, but his attention came back with a startled growl at a timid nip on base of his neck.

It was with a snarl that he returned the favor, lathering the slim column of her with expertly controlled bites—_smoothing his tongue over the abused skin at the sting it caused_—and her moans were positively delicious to hear. Unrestrained, interspersed with pants and gasps, and accompanied by that satisfying flush that reached all the way to the dusky peaks of her breasts. His hands roamed her naked torso, following down the curve of her spine, around her hips, and up to palm those quivering mounds that begged to be touched—_she nearly became lost in the touch, heat coiling low in her belly_—before trailing back again. His core churned and his cock ached in its confinement, and another snarl left him when the light pressure of her hand against his chest sent the nerves into shocked sensitivity.

And damned if everything wasn't positively _maddening!_ The pawing of her hands in his hair, the pleading gasps rolling from those swollen lips—_his teeth pressing against her pulse and fuck if she didn't start throbbing down there_—and Beelzemon couldn't take it anymore.

With a burst of constrained speed, the mega pressed his human into the tiled wall and lifted her into another dominating embrace. Her _hakama_ was rendered useless the moment he tore the sides out, so it hung between them and no longer covered the important bits—meaning that her exposed nethers pressed nakedly against his abs and they both groaned loudly at the touch.

He could feel her damp heat spreading across his stomach—_she could feel the firm press against her clit—_and her hips jerked reflexively with a cry as the Glutton Lord began rocking their hips together that did nothing to quell the inferno burning within them.

And in the back of his mind not in this glorious haze of _heat_ and _holy fuck this feels good_, Beelzemon was terribly confused. Even as he reengaged a fearsome liplock with his human that made her whimper, shudder, and submit under his more skilled tongue, the digimon mentally compared his previous experiences with other digi-women and couldn't make any sense of it.

Why was his core writhing, making his limbs twitch at her gentle touch and his eager flesh to throb in time with his racing data-pulse? What was this sensation building up inside himself? None of his past encounters made his limbs tremble so or cause his data rush through his being, so _why_ did everything feel so _foreign_ and _intense_—?

_Oh._

"_Fuck!"_ The mega ripped his mouth away from hers with a hiss and reluctantly quit grinding against his mewling, quietly protesting human. In fact his whole being protested stopped and _was so close why did he stop_-!

It was with great self-control—reluctant as it was—that Beelzemon stamped down on the link from the still active data-stone, and instantly all the heat and pleasure in him tapered down to more familiar level that his head finally cleared. He panted as his body ached from being under the tempest of everything that had been _Diane_—every emotion, every thought, _every touch_…

_Holy fuck_, his mind kept repeating as he finally gained ahold of himself. _Holy fuck, how do humans __**live**__ with being so fucking __**sensitive**__?!_ No wonder she basically seized the first time in the baths.

"The necklace," came another heated hiss, and the ebonette dazedly looked up at him. His eyes held something _barely restrained_ and _absolutely primal_; even as lust-addled as her brain was, she trembled weakly at the blazing glare. "_Take off the necklace!_"

With shaking hands, Diane quickly obeyed and the milky-blue stone was gently tossed to the side.

His shoulders slumped and a sigh left him, whether in relief or frustration he couldn't tell. Without her echo, the mega on got the vague sense of where the data-stone was at and nothing else; it felt like the equivalent of ivy water being dumped down his back, and it quelled the rest of the heat still burning in his core.

Beelzemon glanced down at his shaking and confused human, and he was relieved that her nakedness only sparked his usual interest and nothing more. "You're making it very difficult to keep my promise." His hands steadied themselves on the wall next to her shoulders, and the girl cautiously clung to them as if they were her only anchor. The digimon allowed it, remembering the heat that coursed through the link and had no doubt that her inexperience made her less likely to control that lust as easily as he did. "I mean what I say—_you'll_ need to beg for it first."

Then she went and took him by surprise.

The ebonette latched onto him, pressing those swelled breasts that he had palmed just moments ago against his chest, took hold of his blond hair and whispered desperately, "And what if I am?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author: (grinning evilly while tapping fingertips together) Did ya miss me?<strong>


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